Pay attention here, because although this release contains a lot of material by the Millennium, it’s not exactly a Millennium album and not exactly an expanded edition of the Begin album, although everything from that record is here. This three-CD package is really a roundup of numerous Curt Boettcher-affiliated recordings from 1965-68, focusing mostly on tracks by the Millennium and his prior band, the Ballroom. Disc three is all Millennium, featuring not only the Begin album, but the unreleased “Blight”/”Just About the Same” single that was added to the 1990 Begin reissue, and the single versions of “It’s You,” “I Just Want to Be Your Friend,” “5 A.M.,” “Prelude,” “To Claudia on Thursday,” and “There Is Nothing More to Say.”

Begin, very much a group project, although Boettcher was the most important member, remains an impressive pinnacle of sunshine psychedelic pop, though the chipper songs are not as substantial as the florid, multi-hued and multi-textured production and harmonies. Disc two has the original versions, as done by the Ballroom, of three songs that would be redone on the Millennium’s Begin album (“5 A.M.,” “Karmic Dream Sequence #1,” “The Island”). There’s lot’s more on this anthology, though, including the scarce 1967 Warner Bros. single by the Ballroom that represented their sole release; an entire album’s worth of stuff, unreleased at the time, done by the Ballroom in late 1966; yet more unreleased Ballroom songs and instrumental backing tracks; and odds and ends from other projects Boettcher worked on in the mid- to late ’60s, including solo cuts, a duet with Dottie Holmberg, the 1965 single by Summer’s Children (a male-female duo he was in), and a couple of items by Sagittarius. The Ballroom tracks, and most of the other non-Millennium cuts, are inventive but fluffy sunshine pop, with intricate, multi-layered helium-high harmonies, and lyrics that often dive into a never-never land of psych-pop romance. In general, they’re more lightweight than the Millennium record, so those new to Boettcher’s work should start with Begin itself before deciding whether to take such a deep plunge. For someone heavily into the Boettcher clan, though, it’s a valuable archive release, with a thorough 24-page booklet.

Nuggets, Lenny Kaye’s original 1972 compilation of garage and psych, loomed large in the record collectors consciousness, canonizing a portion of rock that was originally laughed off while setting the standard for reissues. Rhino’s 1998 box set of the same name expanded the scope of that record, replicating most of the original while gloriously spilling forth over three additional discs — and, in doing so, it spurred a minor revolution, becoming one of the most talked-about reissues of the last half of the ’90s. Rhino knew there was an audience thirsting for a sequel, and they gave them one in 2001, but they didn’t take the easy way out. Instead of offering another round of American garage rockers, they decided to take the road less traveled, compiling four discs of hidden treasures from non-American garage and psych bands. Most of these cuts are from British bands, but there are also selections from a pre-fame Guess Who, the New Zealand act the Smoke, the Brazilian psychedelia of Os Mutantes, the exceptional Merseybeat stylings of Uruguay’s Los Shakers, and the extraordinary Peruvian combo We All Together, among other non-Brit acts. It’s a brilliant, even necessary, move, since most of these bands and songs have been only heard only by the most dedicated collectors — the kind that are willing to risk money based on just hearing a band mentioned, not to hear the group themselves. Let’s face it — apart from the Status Quo’s “Pictures of Matchstick Men,” the Small Faces’ “Here Comes the Nice,” and the Pretty Things’ “Rosalyn,” the most familiar song here is the opener, the Creation’s “Making Time,” simply because it provided the indelible soundtrack to Max Fischer’s yearbook in Rushmore.

This song’s publishing was by Apple and Paul McCartney demanded Fire overdub more vocal harmonies and guitar reverb, which I think muddied up the original. I don’t think the original, as posted here, even made it to the old 45, but did make it onto Nuggets, solidifying its superiority!

That’s four songs out of 109 — a ratio that should simply entice most die-hard rockers and record collectors, especially since the familiar names (the Move, Them, the Easybeats, the Troggs) are represented by songs that aren’t heard all that often. So, the big question is, does Nuggets, Vol. 2 deliver and is it worth spending the money for 100-plus songs you’ve never heard before? Well, if you’re even slightly interested in this, the answer is yes. That doesn’t mean this isn’t without its faults — like any garage rock, if it’s listened to in once concentrated burst, it becomes a little samey, which is also a by-product of its biggest flaw, namely how the compilers favor songs that sound like American garage and downplaying the delirious, precious frutiness of British psych. Still, that’s a minor complaint, because the simple fact of the matter is this — there’s no better way to fall in love with this music, not just because it does its job so well, it just simply doesn’t have any peers. Furthermore, a lot of this stuff is pretty hard to come by (personally, I spent about 150 dollars on a complete Idle Race collection, and it’s much better to get their two best songs here). Also, much of the bands here are best heard in this context, since they have a song, maybe three, that were stunners — and all of these stunners in one place is stunning.

Compiled by rock critic and future Patti Smith Group guitarist Lenny Kaye, 1972’s Nuggets was the anthology responsible for reviving interest in mid-’60s American garage rock. After the proliferation of specialized volumes with the Nuggets title by reissue label Rhino, this four-CD box set is intended as the ideal summation/expansion of the Nuggets concept. The first CD reproduces, track-by-track, the original 27-song Nuggets, while the other three CDs add what may be considered 91 bonus tracks, from the biggest-selling garage hits (“Louie Louie,” “Wooly Bully”) to some cuts that only devout ’60s specialists will know. All important permutations of the mid-’60s garage style are present: primitive fuzz, folk-rock, horn rock, psychedelic dementia, protest rock, etc. Major heroes the Music Machine, the Seeds, the Shadows of Knight, the Electric Prunes, the Standells, the Sonics, the Chocolate Watch Band, and many others are all represented, often by more than one song. If it’s possible to give a five-star rating with reservations, it’s tempting to do so here. No one could have possibly satisfied all rabid garage collectors with a mere 118 songs, but that’s not really the point here; the object was to provide a wide-ranging box set of ’60s garage rock that would entertain, represent the considerable span of garage styles, and be massive — yet affordable — for the committed rock fan who nonetheless doesn’t want everything. Rhino has succeeded, while also presenting the songs in the best possible quality (in mono), whether from the master tapes or best existing copies. With a 100-page booklet of new liner notes (Kaye’s original annotation is also included), it is the best investment possible for those who thirst for more ’60s garage rock than is available on the best single-volume compilations, with a track selection geared toward cream-of-the-crop quality and variety rather than narrow collector prejudices.

One of the great lost ’60s albums. Side one includes all six of the tracks the Misunderstood recorded in England in 1966, with magnificent guitar work and nervy, ambitious (if a bit overtly cosmic) songwriting that combines some of the best aspects of the Jeff Beck-era Yardbirds and Syd Barrett’s Pink Floyd. Remember that Pink Floyd and Hendrix had yet to record when these sides were waxed; they aren’t derivations, but genuinely innovative and groundbreaking performances. Side two contains seven pre-psychedelic demos from their U.S. garage days in the mid-’60s that, while not nearly as important as their 1966 work, are solid, crunching R&B-soaked rock in the tradition of their chief British influences.

Spirit’s debut unveiled a band that seemed determine to out-eclecticize everybody else on the California psychedelic scene, with its melange of rock, jazz, blues, folk-rock, and even a bit of classical and Indian music. Teenaged Randy California immediately established a signature sound with his humming, sustain-heavy tone; middle-aged drummer Ed Cassidy gave the group unusual versatility; and the songs tackled unusual lyrical themes, like “Fresh Garbage” and “Mechanical World.” As is often the case in such hybrids, the sum fell somewhat short of the parts; they could play more styles than almost any other group, but couldn’t play (or, more crucially, write) as well as the top acts in any given one of those styles. There’s some interesting stuff here, nonetheless; “Uncle Jack” shows some solid psych-pop instincts, and it sounds like Led Zeppelin lifted the opening guitar lines of “Taurus” for their own much more famous “Stairway to Heaven.”

The Fun and Games’ Elephant Candy is an exemplary harmony pop and bubblegum album dating back to the late ’60s. Its popularity today (especially among soft pop collectors, who have helped pushed copies of the LP into the upper strata of the marketplace) can be traced directly to the group’s involvement with über-talented Los Angeles singer/songwriter/producer Gary Zekley. Zekley (who passed away in 1996) had previously struck gold as a songwriter/producer for a group called the Yellow Balloon, co-writing eight of that group’s 11 LP tracks, including the hit song “Yellow Balloon.” Zekley had already written or co-written (often with his songwriting partner, Mitchell Bottler) numerous soft pop hits, including “Like a Summer Rain” for Jan & Dean and the original version of “Superman” by the Clique (later covered by R.E.M.). By 1968, Zekley’s success had led him to be introduced to a California-by-way-of-Texas group called the Fun and Games by UNI Records president Russ Regan. Unlike several of Zekley’s groups — which were mostly a vehicle for Zekley and Bottler’s songs, and mostly utilized session musicians — the Fun and Games were a real group. Nevertheless, Zekley took control of their destiny, and ended up producing the group’s sole album, 1969’s Elephant Candy, co-writing seven of the 12 songs featured on the album. Elephant Candy wasn’t as successful as Zekley’s previous efforts, however, and spawned just one Top 100 hit, “Grooviest Girl in the World.” Today, many soft pop and bubblegum fans like to point out the song’s unintentionally hilarious lyrics, during which the singer sums up his excessive compliments to the groovy girl by stating, “And I’m a guy with impeccable taste” (as if she should be flattered that such an amazing guy would be tossing compliments her way — such an ego!).

So far, one volume of this exists for Indiana. There’s THREE Ohio volumes, THREE Florida volumes, but NO New Jersey volumes. Does anybody know of a New Jersey garage/frat rock/60s/70s comp? -Ian!

Gear Fab’s Psychedelic States series, which collects vintage 1960s garage rock singles on a regional, state-by-state basis, is extremely valuable in an archaeological sort of way, since these rare 45-rpm artifacts afford an interesting glimpse into the music of a specific time, place, and demographic, and in a larger context, allow for a region-to-region comparison of the similarities and differences in the garage band phenomenon. That’s the scholarly way to look at these collections. Musically, however, most of these singles are badly recorded, poorly performed, and clichéd and derivative at almost every level, which, of course, is probably why they’re so prized by collectors. This volume, which spotlights the Hoosier State, abounds with badly recorded, rhythmically challenged bands that scream and fuzz-chord their way through crude songs with a take-no-prisoners attitude and little else going for them. In other words, it’s an utterly fascinating glimpse at a time in the U.S. when every garage on the block seemed to have a band rehearsing in it, a glimpse at a true suburban folk movement where owning an instrument was at least as important as knowing how to properly play it and nowhere close to as important as the need to simply make noise.

Nothing here redefines Indiana as the epicenter of rock & roll in the 1960s, and nothing here was even so much as a regional hit, but this collection (like the others in this series) has all the charm of a truly bad horror film, the kind where you can’t help but root for the monster to destroy everything in sight. Highlights? It’s hard to say. The Endd’s shaky, tottering “Gonna Send You Back to Your Mother” from 1967 is spooky and oddly haunting, even infectious in a creepy way. The Chevelles’ “Just Once in My Life,” also from 1967, bounces along on a simple yet effective melody. The Serfmen’s “Cry” from 1964 is a fascinatingly ragged hybrid of “Louie, Louie” and “Twist and Shout.” The Jades’ “Come Back” from 1967 is simple and solid, and might even have been a hit if it weren’t so derivatively generic, which makes one wonder even more why it wasn’t a hit. Again, this collection will probably mean more to historians and collectors than it will to anyone else, and none of these singles could be deemed essential by any stretch of reasoning, but by sheer accumulation these raw, ragged sides show that there was indeed something happening, Mr. Jones, even in Indiana.